Silence: the Day Dreamer
by Maralee
Summary: Chapter 1 done, please R&R, next chapter moves into Tortall by end, I really want to hear what you all think, lots of old faves (Daine, Numair, etc) to come! Rating for anticipated chapters


"Lambkins! Lambkins! Time to sleep your sleepy-skins!" Anneke's sweet soprano rang out over the hillside. A few grumbling greedy sheep looked up at her but did not waste much time turning their faces back to the grass. Ann eke sighed.  
  
"You know, sheep, I wish that you would once, just once listen to me when I call you in. Then I wouldn't have to sing the bell weather song. And you would all happily march up to the barn and into your pen, preferably single file, and I could go in the house and do something that does not involve sheep. And I will have you know that grass is still going to be there and it is going to be just as tasty tomorrow as it is today." She waited a moment, as if expecting something to happen. The wind blew a straw lock of straight brown hair that had slipped from her braid into her face, and Anneke, frowning, tucked it behind her ear. "Alright. Fine. Have it your way."  
  
Over the hillside Anneke's brothers laughed silently at their sister's monologue to the stubborn sheep as the girl starting singing at them again. "Bell-weather, sheep whether near or be far, bring me my sheep where ever they are. You cannot just leave me, you know it won't please me, and if you ignore me, I'll have to run find thee. So spare me the trouble; bring me sheep on the double!"  
  
Almost with a sigh the bell weather slowly ambled away from his patch of grass, his bell ringing with such a disheartening clang that Anneke, in her more distracted moods, often marveled that the sheep followed him at all. But they inevitably did, though some of the bell weathers more ornery herds mates needed a bit of a nip or nudge occasionally. Sheep finally in a moving unit, Anneke gave a self-satisfied nod, and started over the hill to the house, bell weather close behind.  
  
"Oh darling brothers do not mock, do not laugh at me," Anneke sang in a slow, dignified dirge as the crested the rocky hill. "For I have brought you fluffy sheep as far as you can see! Sheep so proud and sheep so fair, how dare you stand and mock them there! And they all came marching down, from the hill, so get out of the way!"  
  
Joonas and Kustaa laughed as Paavo opened the gate for the sheep. "Haven't heard that one before, Annie," Joonas, the eldest, said.  
  
"That would be because I just made it up," Anneke replied matter-of-factly. She smiled brightly up at her tall brothers. Joonas ruffled his youngest siblings dark tresses, a small, amused smile still on his handsome, tanned face. "Mama let you out of the house without a hat?"  
  
Anneke scowled. "No, but I hid it. I don't need it on cloudy days."  
  
"Of course you need it on cloudy days!" Raakel boomed from the doorway, a wide straw hat with a blue ribbon waving from her hands. "The sun still shines behind those clouds, you foolish thing!"  
  
"But not on me, Mutti!" Anneke gestured around her at the open yard. The overcast sky was sunless, and had been for the past two days.  
  
"And you hid your hat in the haystack! Paavo found it as he was filling the stalls. You're lucky he didn't spear the thing! What will they say when you show up at court with freckles on your face?"  
  
"They will say," Anneke assumed an exaggerated stance of a mindless teenager, "'How odd! I've never seen freckles on a dark haired girl before! Where ever did you find them!' Honestly, Mutti, I stand out so much already, no one will notice I've got freckles."  
  
"No one will notice you at all unless they bother to look down," Kustaa joked.  
  
"Honestly Kustaa I'm not that short!" Anneke argued. "Mama says I'm taller than Miranda."  
  
"Annie, with Bernt as your father, there was no way you could not be taller than your mother," Raakel said. "I have never seen a man taller than Bernt. Nor a grown woman shorter than Miranda." Raakel was silent for a moment, remembering her late brother and his foreign bride she had hardly got to know. Anneke did look a great deal like her mother Miranda. She had the same straight dark brown hair. Anneke's face had just the same oval shape and, if anything, was even paler. But Anneke's smile, her energy, that was all Bernt.  
  
"I've heard the sailors say that in other places people are shorter than us, Mama," Joonas said. "Miranda was probably average."  
  
"Yeah," Paavo agreed. He upturned his pail into the horse trough. "Where was she from again?"  
  
"Tuisane? Tortall? I'm not sure they all run together in my mind."  
  
"Tortall," Anneke said firmly, pulling a bit of snowy fleece off of her deep blue skirt. "Steward Klaes told me."  
  
"See, Mama?" Kustaa exclaimed. "She is learning how to be a real lady! She's already got her genealogy down."  
  
Anneke elbowed him in his hip, being unable to reach his ribs effectively. "That's more geography than genealogy, I'm afraid, Kustaa. And I'm afraid that Steward Klaes and Lady Elke do not believe geography to be as pertinent to a young lady's education as genealogy. Though geography strikes me as much more useful."  
  
"Bernt always taught me his geography. He didn't think it fair that he had to learn it and I didn't."  
  
"Geography is much more fun than curtseying. I should much rather-"  
  
Kustaa roared with laughter. "Do you hear her? 'I should much rather!' Oh it's wonderful! They're getting to you Annie! Ha ha! They're going to make a proper lady of you yet!"  
  
"I don't doubt it Kustaa. It's dreadfully boring."  
  
"If you're so bored, my Lady Shehrevar, then you come inside and help me finish dinner. You, my dear, can shuck the beans."  
  
"With a song in my heart, dearest Mutti," Anneke curtseyed deeply and did her best lady-of –the-court strut into the house.  
  
"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Kustaa mutter just loud enough for those left in the yard to hear. Joonas, Paavo, and Raakel stifled their laughter as they followed Annie into the house.  
  
Annie was already humming happily over the beans as Raakel returned to her mixing bowl. Anneke loved mindless activities. They allowed her to daydream, potentially for hours, uninterrupted. She tried working on a song about beans, but it just wouldn't come. The tune wasn't right. It bounced and jerked unevenly until Anneke couldn't stand the piece anymore. She cast her mind about for anything else to think about, and she landed on Tortall.  
  
Her mother had come to the Farlands from Tortall. No one had ever told her why, or whom she had come with. No one even knew much about Tortall. She had heard stories about magnificent beasts and lady knights, but everything was chalked up to fairy tales. It took two months in fair weather to reach the Copper Isles, and another two weeks before Port Legann, and that was barring any trouble at all. No one Anneke had every met had made the difficult journey, and Anneke didn't suppose she would ever meet anyone who had. Whatever relatives Anneke had, she smiled to herself at her parallels, weren't very relevant.  
  
Supper at the house in the hills tended to be a rather loud affair. Ansel and Raakel Bjornsen's had four sons, adopted Anneke when she was just a baby, and employed three servants who helped them run the estate. Lately, now that they're sons were grown and apprenticed to surrounding artisans, Ansel and Raakel enjoyed their quiet evenings alone. Now with the five "siblings" home, the small dining hall was filled with shouts and laughter, and more than a little of Anneke's singing.  
  
Tonight was even more special than the last month had been. It was their last night together, for in the morning the brothers would escort Anneke back to Fief Shehrevar, and then they would return to their masters' workrooms. Joonas especially would not be returning for a long time. His master, a sculptor, was retiring at the end of the month, and he was leaving his business to Joonas. Joonas was leaving the fief forever.  
  
The lamps were burning low when Ansel, a tall, portly man with a full beard that still showed its auburn traces, raised his pewter cup. "A toast!" he declared. "To my eldest son Joonas."  
  
"To Joonas!" they all cried. The light danced on the brown walls in time with the sound of their cheer.  
  
"May every rock, every tree, every lump of clay show him its true form!"  
  
"Joonas!" they cried again. Joonas ducked his red haired head, embarrassed.  
  
"Look at him blush!" Kustaa laughed. "As if he didn't know he's the best sculptor around."  
  
"Second best, Kustaa," Anneke corrected. "Master Eilert has not retired yet."  
  
"I can't believe my little Joonas is leaving us!" Astrid, Raakel's maid and the children's aged nurse, declared. Her eyes teared. "Why it seems just yesterday-"  
  
"That he was hiding sheep droppings in the oven, Mama Astrid?" Kustaa put in.  
  
"That he stole your knickers off the line and dressed the old bell-weather up in them?" Anneke added helpfully.  
  
"Oh you wretched things!" Astrid admonished them, but her eyes twinked. She pulled Kustaa's strawberry blond horse-tail. "And I'm sure you put him up to it, Kustaa."  
  
"Me? Never!" Kustaa feigned shock at her accusation. "I will have you know that I am a perfect angel." Kustaa ducked as beans besieged him from all sides.  
  
Ansel cleared his throat over the echoing laughter. "As it happens, Joonas, we do not want you to go out with out something to remember us by." Ansel pulled from under his chair a carefully wrapped parcel. "We imagined you would be traveling frequently, Joonas, with your commissions and all, and we wanted you to have something of us with you."  
  
With utmost care Ansel opened the brown paper that surrounded the soft package. Inside lay a soft wool cloak of hunter green. He pulled it out in awe. All his life he'd worn wool and flax, because those were the fief's chief products. But a cloak this fine, these were what they sold to dukes and marquis, barons and baronesses like Anneke was to be, not sculptors, family or no.  
  
"Papa, it's-"  
  
"We all worked at it, Joonas," Ansel said gruffly. His eyes glowed with pride, both for his son and at his fief's skill. "Wool from our sheep, Paavo and Mama made the cloth and cloak. Astrid and Nissa stitched that embroidery you see there. Kustaa made those handsome clasps you see there."  
  
"Pure silver, with Anneke's white opals," Kustaa said. Joonas looked up at him. Kustaa was rarely serious, but Joonas could see his pride as clearly as his father's. "Best I've ever done, if I do say so myself."  
  
"You would," Ean retorted. "I painted the lining. Master Egil's wife taught me the technique."  
  
"I magicked it for you, Joonas," Anneke said quietly. "If it stains or tears, it's your own fault for getting eaten by griffins." Joonas smiled. She smiled back shyly, then brightened suddenly. "I wrote you a song too!"  
  
Everyone groaned. "Not another song, Annie," Ean moaned.  
  
"Now, Ean," she said, pulling out her guitar from behind the door, "you know I've kept my singing out of your way because you like to study in silence, but this is a tribute to Joonas." She took a deep breath, then stopped. "It's stupid on purpose, just so you know." She took a deep breath again. "OH! Clap your hands and sing along! This is a tribute-to-Joonas song! Sing along and clap your hands! My songs not over until it begins!  
  
"My brother Joonas is leaving today, That's all there really is to say." Kustaa started to cheer, but Anneke kept going.  
  
"Clap your hands and sing along. This is a tribute-to-Joonas song!  
  
"Joonas works with stone and lime, I hope he doesn't work all the time….OH!" Anneke started in on the chorus again, and Ean settled back into his chair. He expected they would have to shut her up eventually.  
  
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End file.
